


Brain Static (And Not the Pleasant Kind)

by Nat20



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: But Sebastian is my boy so this is of course about him, Character Study, Edwin (not mine), Gen, Marsh (not mine), Mentions of Sex, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Fiction in the terms that these are original characters but only one made by me?, Sebastian (mine), Setting from DnD campaign, Those three belong to wonderful people and amazing roleplayers ouo, Yasha (not mine), if that makes sense, nothing explicit but might be worth the warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nat20/pseuds/Nat20
Summary: A character study based on one of my current DnD characters, Sebastian O'Hannigan. This study takes place right after a session where the party discovered some memories from each other in order to find out how to send Harold, a creature not of this world and poorly named by Sebastian, back home.





	Brain Static (And Not the Pleasant Kind)

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to work on ouo I love character studies.

His head felt... fuzzy. That was the only word he had to properly describe it. Not quite like the static that came during a hot shower or right after waking up from a deep and relaxing sleep. Nor was it the fuzz he got when he was exhausted and ready for bed, or when he focused more on bird watching than anything else. It wasn't pleasant like those feelings of fuzz, of seeing a rare bird with a nest full of chirping young or of his head hitting his pillow so he could finally— _finally_ —go to sleep. No, this fuzzy feeling permeated his whole brain, down his neck, his shoulders, all the way to the tips of his fingers to finally curl back around and wrap around his guts. Even alcohol, which usually helped to ease most of his unwanted tensions, only acted as an amplifier. He knew, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, what that meant. The drink was only half-way full before he had stopped nursing it in favor of looking around the Scarlet House. The fuzz blocked out most of the sounds from the illegal fight ring and the music. It muffled the clinking of glass and the laughter of patrons looking to participate in some gambling, fighting or debauchery. Usually, Sebastian would be all for each of those things. Not all at once. Maybe two at one time. But the three put together just got complicated and messy. Tonight, though, he had no fire burning under his skin. The fuzz was damp and cold and resting right between his ears, nestled around his brain.

Nothing seemed appealing.

What should be a celebratory night—in some sense of the word—had become nothing more than another escape attempt. A distraction. Sebastian was good at that. He could distract himself with anything. Either lewd thoughts or badly placed jokes he had waited till the exact and precise moment to say so he would get a reaction—any reaction—out of his intended target. Most of the time the target ended up being Edwin. It wasn't Sebastian's fault! Edwin was a complicated man but simple to read and because of that he was just so _easy_ to pester. With Edwin absent Sebastian often turned his attention to making Sterling squirm or snap a snide remark. That was a little more difficult. Then there was Yasha, but after everything with the circus Sebastian had tried to tone it all back. She had enough on her plate without having to herd him into appropriate conversation but it was so hard to focus on the dark and serious matters that pressed at them all. He just wanted a moment of quiet. A simple, calm moment where he could focus on the present and open himself up to enjoying something and fully surrender to it. Alas, the only thing that he could fully do that during was sex and, as he looked around the establishment, nothing really came to mind. He had no desire to flirt or try his luck. It would be easy here. Easy for him. Getting someone in bed usually was, if he played his cards right, all the while respecting and obeying his strict code of conduct for such matters.

Find those that seem to be of his general type, talk to them, flirt with them, see if they were interested by being very blunt with his intentions, speak of and discover boundaries, find someplace private, and go at it.

Not tonight.

The fuzz in his brain smothered any idea he had about enjoying the evening. He glanced over at Yasha and Marsh. Sneaking off wouldn't be a problem considering they were all just having a night to themselves. No one bothered him when he decided to go for a little run around. He was left to his own devices, much to his deepest pleasure. It was nice to be left to do his own thing.

A small, fond smile came to his face as he watched Yasha and Marsh. He couldn't hear what they were talking about but seeing Yasha so happy and warm and Marsh so open was enough to break the fuzz a little bit. Enough for Sebastian to down the rest of his drink, pay, and make his way out of the Scarlet House and down back to Edwin's place. He wasn't drunk. Not even buzzed. It took a lot more than Sebastian let on to often make him feel so much as a tingle from alcohol. He was fully aware of his surroundings and he wish he wasn't. He wanted to pass out drunk in a gutter somewhere and be left alone. Maybe crawl behind a dumpster and sleep there until the wee hours of the morning so he could sneak to a shower and cover up what he had done.

 _There was peace in keeping a secret_ , he thought idly as he walked, hands shoved deep into his pockets. _There's peace in people not knowing things._

Knowing things. That seemed to be a hot topic recently. Knowledge was, after all, power. Knowledge did a lot of things. Knowledge of someone's full name offered power over them. Sebastian was aware of that every time he heard someone's full, chosen name. Maybe it was the fey inside of him (if there even was a fey-half in there. His father spoke so highly of his mother's fey nature but Sebastian wondered if he was just drunk) or maybe it was just because he knew what a demon could do with a name. Contracts, curses, hexes, spells, etc.

He didn't want to know Yasha had a shitty childhood and a shitty father. He didn't want to know she was kept on a fucking leash like some sort of animal. He didn't want to know that she was displayed like a trophy that could do some magic tricks. He didn't want to know what her father looked like because now all he could think about was dragging his sorry soul back from the dead so Sebastian could kill him over and over again. He didn't need this bubbling rage at the base of his heart and in every fiber of his muscles pissing him off. Besides, Sebastian didn't know necromancy magic.

He only knew enough magic to protect himself in combat and to charm people. He only knew enough magic to present himself as someone different or to cause small, minor inconveniences. Being a “bard” wasn't really about being able to cast spells and being powerful. He only learned because it helped him on stage with-

Sebastian shook his head hard and sniffled as he kept walking, glowering at the road in front of him. He gazed at the cobblestone and cement as if it had personally offended him. If only looks could kill. Well, looks _could_ kill, but that was a little higher level in magic than Sebastian had ever bothered going. Every now and then he'd bust out that crappy little notebook with his spells and what they did and their components. Only when he couldn't fucking remember how to cast something. Or its name. Or what it did. Sometimes he'd even add a spell he learned or heard about. But it was a secondhand hobby. One he honestly didn't enjoy very much.

His magic required his charming personality and his voice to cast. He had to hum or sing to get it to work for him. Or some strongly placed words. But most of the time he had nothing he wanted to do. No song he wanted to sing loud and proud to cast his magic. No dreadfully cutting remarks that could leave a person bleeding. No charm. Sebastian's skill set was very unlike Yasha's who just used her innate skills and cunning intelligence to cast her magic. She had the hand gestures down and the verbal components and knew how to do magic so bloody well.

Sebastian would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous. The ease at which Yasha used magic and didn't hold anything back was admirable. It was infuriating. She had no fear, no hesitation, no longing to just curl up and hide from the world when she used her magic. But why? Wasn't she used as a prop in a show? Her magic a form of entertainment? Forced entertainment, nonetheless, while being humiliated by her awful sperm donor? The feeling Sebastian had towards that matter wasn't one of burning anger or even hurtful resentment or stone-cold jealously. He was jealous, but in the same way an aspiring artist was jealous of the masters. Of their skills forged through practice and time. Yasha had a lot more time for her craft than Sebastian did.

He only learned for the damn shows. Because he was handed a book and told to figure it out.

_“Because it will bring in the audience!” His father said with a hardy laugh, his smile bright. Sebastian had given his sister a wary look before shrugging._

_“I mean, I could try to learn. Sam and I could probably do some cool stuff on stage. Fire? Lighting?”_

_“Maybe some sparkling effects! Like a millions stars!” Samantha said with a wistful sigh._

_“Or charming the audience to tip more,” their father suggested. “Have to feed all of us somehow!”_

_Sebastian's smile faded and he looked back to his father. “So we'd... charm people to give us their money? Won't they_ remember _they were charmed?”_

 _“That's why you learn that spell called, what was it? Modify memory? Make them forget or make them_ think _they wanted to donate more.” His father shrugged, a small frown coming to his lips. “It's devilish, I know, but not many people want to pay to see traveling performers anymore. Until you two learn magic then we'll keep doing what we have been. Unless you can think of something better.”_

_Sebastian and Samantha's eyes met. “No,” they both said in unison._

The memory rested cold in the back of his head. At least that one was still private. Fucking Edwin and his goddamn spell. Sebastian had been trying his damn best to keep his past separate from his present. He just wanted to move on. It would be easier if he could just forget but now? How could he? He knew everyone else knew where he had come from, what his sister looked like. Or, he supposed, the demon from the circus was the one to blame for that one.

Despite all this he still had a few options. The first one was to run away to a new city. Take the payment he now had under his belt, steal a few valuables from Edwin's place and pawn them in some other city. Keep running until Sebastian finally found someplace he could vanish in. Someplace loud and colorful like he wanted to be. A place where he didn't feel so judged and exposed. But option one was put far back into his mind. He couldn't just run off when he promised Edwin he would do a job. He also couldn't leave Yasha behind, she needed someone. A friend. Sebastian didn't think that person would be him, not by a long shot, but everyone needed a jumping off point to get to where they needed to go. He was happy to be a springboard for her if it made her happy in the future. After this job was done he was going to be going on his own anyway, as much as that thought hurt. Yasha and Marsh, well, he didn't know what was going to happen there but he could hope for the best. For both of them.

Option two was sticking out this job but finding someway to make it more profitable. Maybe selling information to the highest bidders. The first problem with that was that these were damn demons or gods or _something_ he didn't want to get messed up in. The second problem was that he might end up hurting Yasha or Marsh or, gods forbid, Harold. In most situations Sebastian took a job, got the info and payment he needed, then made a quick run around to being a double (sometimes triple) agent, collected more payment, and left under the cover of broad daylight during the very specific time of lunch rush to a new city he never heard of before. That was one way he ended up here, getting this job. But now? He was too invested and in too deep. He had to see it through as much as that thought stressed him out.

Option three was, well, that one was automatically thrown out. He was not going to go back to his father and sister and beg them to let him travel with them again. Perform with them. No matter how much he missed the stage or singing and dancing with his sister while the spotlights were on them, faces hidden behind masks, he would not go back. The old days were behind them where they just performed while their father collected the money, taking them from city to city and getting them new outfits to wear and new props...

 _Singing in the Rain_ was his favorite. The confetti had been handmade by all of them the night before. Cutting tissue paper and laughing while their beans and rice cooked over the camp fire. The moment their dad released the confetti from the bucket was the peak of the song. When the fun really started to happen as the dance picked up fervor. The audience loved it. Sebastian could still hear their laughs and cheers and applause. He missed it to the point his heart had a dreadful ache. There was something magical about being able to vanish on the stage while still being seen. They only saw the Sebastian that could sing and dance and perform. They didn't see his nervous jitters behind stage or hear his soft whimpers when it was time to actually step into the limelight. They didn't know he hated the taste and texture of zucchini or that he liked the lovely scent of lavender and mint together. They only saw the man that could sing and dance and distract them from the shit existence known as life. And in turn, they distracted Sebastian. He had always been searching to draw more reactions out of the crowd, more adoration. It made him feel alive, like he could do anything in the world. The afterglow of a performance could last him for weeks. How wonderful it would be to perform again doing what he wanted where he wanted? To be the center of attention that would only last as long as the show?

He arrived at Edwin's place earlier than he thought, but that didn't stop Sebastian from walking in like he owned the whole place. Although he did close the door behind him and double checked the locks before he made his way to his “borrowed” bedroom. Borrowed was the sweet version of the word. Sebastian knew he downright took it and wouldn't take no for an answer. Marsh's place was fantastic and he loved staying with her given how witty she was but he also needed his privacy. Edwin never bothered him much. Perhaps it was mutual dislike? To be clear, Sebastian never did hate the man. He was just so easy to pick on and fluster. That was why taking one of the largest spare bedrooms had been Sebastian's glorious attempt to throw Edwin off his game even more.

The room was nice. The pillows and blankets were soft and warm. The bathroom was comfortable, especially now that he had unpacked only the most important items: his daily and nightly routine. Face scrub, lotions, mascara, tooth paste, etc. Tonight, though, he almost didn't want to wash his face. He just wanted to fall asleep and be left alone for several hours in the sweet grips of unconsciousness. Yasha was going to look after poor drunk Marsh, he knew that. The circus folk were safe. His new gnoll friend was safe and comfortable. Sebastian could very easily just face plant into the bed and let sleep take hold of him and do as she wished. But there was a small pull at the back of his head that if he didn't wash his face and make-up off tonight that he would have to do it in the morning. If he didn't do it in the morning he may not do it for a week. That was a dangerous road to go down.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, he moved away from the tempting call of his most loved mistress to wash his face. Warm water, a soft towelette against his skin, and after a gentle rubbing of lotion later he looked at himself in the mirror, much to his chagrin. He was tired. He was so, so tired. It showed on the bags under his eyes and the way his lips had fixed themselves in a neutral frown for the night. It was a look he had grown accustomed to and one he wished he didn't have to see, but not even he had mastered putting on make-up without a mirror.

He took out his multitude of ear piercings and ear cuffs, placing them all carefully in order that he put them on. Finally, he removed several of his bracelets and the beaded necklace he wore, but the one with a small silver piece hanging at the end stayed. It always did unless, well... he thought back to when his memory self had so easily handed the necklace over to Edwin. It surprised even him that, apparently, Sebastian trusted Edwin enough to _not_ destroy one of the only things Sebastian held dear to his heart. In usual circumstances Sebastian would never hand over his necklace or even let someone touch it to get a better look at the designs on it. To do so would be a crime punishable by death in Sebastian's eyes. But he had just taken it off and tossed it over without a second thought.

He wondered why.

The reason escaped him as he shut off the light and collapsed on the bed, hardly curling himself up in the blankets before he felt sleep pulling at the back of his mind. Before she came though, he felt something tugging at his heart. He saw Sam again. It wasn't the Sam he knew. One of them had been a demon and the others memories of her, but he saw her face. He had the sudden urge to seek her out and curl up beside her like they used to do when they were children and just talk. Talk about nothing for hours until they both fell asleep, wondering where they would be going next while they father drove the cart. He just wanted someone, something, to speak to about all these tied up emotions in him. About this fuzz that still hadn't left his ears. It was just growing louder in the dark silence of the room. It seemed to rub against his face leaving him feeling fuzzy all over.

He curled up tighter in the sheets trying so hard to wish for sleep to hurry up and claim him so he wouldn't have to think anymore. So he wouldn't have to think about the loud fuzz or the way his chest ached every night or how he wanted so badly to just move on with his life. He had to be far away from them now. He had gone the opposite way his family had been traveling when he left. It's been, what? Two to three years? It was time he moved on.

But even then, every night he tried to sleep, the hole in his chest just seemed to grow a little bit bigger, a little bit darker, a little bit deeper.

Sebastian opened his burning eyes to peer at darkness. There was no one there. There hasn't been since he took over this room or since he ran away. Yes, sometimes he woke up with someone next to him but that wasn't the same as someone being _there_. Not someone he felt entirely safe around to the point he could relax his defense systems and just exist. No, he hasn't been able to do that in a long time.

He swallowed thickly, feeling as if he had to swallow dirt with a mouthful of cotton. It stung and it hurt and it went down slowly. Only when he closed his eyes again and let out a shuddering breath did he finally fall asleep with one last thought: he didn't have the energy to even _think_ about putting on make-up tomorrow.

 


End file.
